Missing Love Letters
by Jounin
Summary: Mamori notices that there is something missing in her locker. Oneshot. HirumaMamori.


_Improved and slightly modified, I made a mistake when I wrote that Musashi was a third year student. _

_**Disclaimer:** Eyeshield 21 is the property of **Inagaki Riichirou **and **Murata Yuusuke** and not mine._

_**Missing Love Letters**_

It was when Mamori was putting back her slippers that she had the feeling something was missing. At first she couldn't really place her finger on it, but it seemed that something was missing from her locker. She stopped, frowned and began to scrutinise its contents. _Subject notebooks, extra pens, spare umbrella… _she checked each object off her mental list, _spare handkerchief, apron… _

Suddenly it clicked.

It was an absence of the stray love letter or so, folded pieces of rectangular paper, sometimes scented, sometimes dotted with hearts and almost always filled with much gratuitous admiration to make her blush and sigh with exasperation. But thinking back on it, she came to realize that there hadn't been one in a while. Mamori wasn't so vain or conceited to be bothered by the sudden disappearance of these once weekly apparitions. On the contrary, she felt relieved. It meant less awkward refusals and uncomfortable silences between her and her ardent admirer

Now that she thought about it, she hadn't had a confession in a while either, and her last one, as she recalled it, had been a little strange. It had started out as any other confession, the boy had been both eager and sincere, but he could not have bestowed his admiration on a more reluctant recipient. Mamori had been about to refuse him in the kindest way possible, but in mid-sentence he suddenly grew deathly pale, then ended the conversation with stuttered and disjointed words, before rapidly running away. She could have sworn that she had heard him beg 'please please don't kill me' as he went. It had perplexed her at the time. Was it something she said? But she didn't really have any time to think more about it because at that moment Hiruma had appeared, and in his usual rude way asked about preparations for their upcoming match.

So she might be surprised to know that this sudden relief from love letters, was due to her current object of anger and frustration. What had occurred, was alike to Mamori being under Hiruma's protective custody, though it was nothing as formally observable or as kind as that, rather, more like a tyrannous king, whose protective custody also entailed a sort of slavery.

She had been more useful to him than he had previously calculated. She was intelligent and so picked up rules and game strategy very quickly. She was already starting to produce sharp game plans and this made his job a little easier. And it was an extra bonus that she was one of the only girls who could say more than a sentence to him and not run away crying or fearful (and there was only one other in this category). This was going along favourably with his set-up. What he didn't need was for anything to distract her away from helping the team. This included advances or relationships with the common schoolyard idiot.

So naturally, Mamori immediately gained an off-limits status, but she herself was entirely oblivious to this fact. It was mostly an unspoken acknowledgement between him and Mamori's band of admirers. Any guy foolish enough to break this unspoken law found himself being glared at by the feared devil of Deimon high school, and looking down the barrel of a gun pointed at them and many other things beside (if they were unlucky enough to be already listed in the devil's black handbook). Many a careless lovesick admirer had already had first-hand experience of these consequences. They have not been heard of since.

Entirely, it wasn't a bad situation. Hiruma continued to get the results that he wanted and Mamori was saved from many an awkward refusal, and was none the wiser, only to be passingly puzzled at moments such as this, the absence of the once daily love letters. But even these moments were fleeting, as they were more often then not, interrupted by the very person that caused them.

'Oi fucking manager'

Mamori's contemplation was rudely disrupted by an annoyingly familiar phrase. She automatically spun around and prepared to yell at him, the bane of her high school life, devil of deimon high and coincidentally captain of the American football team. One Hiruma Youichi.

'Don't call me that!' She huffed, as took out a black folder, closed her locker and then looked up to him with an indignant glare. Love letters already forgotten.

'Just give me the game plan' he held his hand out expectantly

'It wouldn't hurt if you showed a little respect, you know!' Mamori scolded, but handed the folder to him anyway, because she knows that it is just his way and that he is the hardest working person she knows. She enjoys the work, it is interesting and challenging but finds it hard to imagine having to coach and manage a team by oneself, so is glad to help if it eases the load. She knows that his thanks, though never said is always felt.

'I believe we have a good chance of victory, if we follow we figured out while watching the video' She said, as she mentally recalled their new strategy. 'But if it fails to work I can signal to you the alternative plan.'

He smirks at her, because it is as close to a smile as he would show, and turns around to head to the clubhouse.

'That could work' is all he says, because he knows that it would provoke her to argue with him. But he would never admit that he enjoys their arguments and conversation (though most of them are arguments).

'Of course it should work, I spent a long time analysing the opponent's game play' she retorted hotly as she quickened her pace to match his long strides as they walked outside the school building. And she knows she would never admit it either.

Hiruma's satisfaction with the game plan suited his rationalisation that Mamori had to be saved from distraction for good of the team. For he concluded that there could be no other reason for it.

But other more observant persons (namely one second year with a beard and a golden leg), knew that this wasn't really the truth of it at all.


End file.
